Breathing Lessons (1989 Pulitzer Prize) - Anne Tyler [32]
When they stepped out of the church it was like stepping out of a daytime movie-that sudden shock of sunshine and birdsong and ordinary life that had been going on without them. Serena was hugging Linda. Linda's husband stood awkwardly by with the children, looking like a visitor who hoped to be invited in. And all around the churchyard, members of the class of ' were recognizing each other. "Is that you?" they asked. And, "How long has it been?" And, "Can you believe this?" The Barley twins told Maggie she hadn't changed a bit. Jo Ann Der-mott announced that everyone had changed, but only for the better. Wasn't it odd, she said, how much younger they were than their parents had been at the very same age. Then Sugar Tilghman appeared in the doorway and asked the crowd at large what other song she possibly could have sung. "I mean I know it wasn't perfect," she said, "but look what I had to choose from! Was it just too absolutely inappropriate?" They all swore it wasn't.
Maggie said, "Durwood, I owe you the world for coming to my rescue." -"My pleasure," he told her. "Here's your coupon, by the way. None the worse for wear." This wasn't quite true; it was limp around the edges and slightly damp. Maggie dropped it into her purse.
Ira stood near the parking lot with Nat Abrams. He and Nat had been a couple of classes ahead of the others; they were the outsiders. Not that Ira seemed to mind. He looked perfectly at ease, in fact. He was discussing auto routes. Maggie overheard snatches of "Triple A" and "Highway Ten." You would think the man was obsessed.
"Funny little place, isn't it?" Durwood said, gazing around him.
"Funny?" "You couldn't even call it a town." "Well, it is kind of small," Maggie said.
"I wonder if Serena will be staying on here." They both looked over at Serena, who seemed to be trying to put her daughter back together. Linda's face was streaming with tears, and Serena had set her at a distance and was patting down various parts of her clothes. ^'Doesn't she still have relatives in Baltimore?" Durwood asked.
"None that claim her," Maggie said.
"I thought she had that mother." "Her mother died a few years ago." "Aw, really?" Durwood said.
"She got one of those diseases, some muscular something." "Us boys were all just, like, fixated on her, once upon a time," Durwood said.
This startled Maggie, but before she could comment she saw Serena heading toward them. She had her shawl clasped tightly around her. "I want to thank you both for singing," she said. "It meant a lot to me." "That Ira is just so stubborn I could spit," Maggie said, and Durwood said, "Beautiful service, Serena." "Oh, be honest, you thought it was crazy," Serena said. "But you were nice to humor me. Everyone's been so nice!" Her lips took on a blurred look. She drew a knot of Kleenex from her V neckline and pressed it first to one eye and then to the other. "Sorry," she said. "I keep changing moods. I feel like, I don't know, a TV screen in a windstorm. I'm so changeable." "Most natural thing in the world," Durwood assured her, Serena blew her nose and then tucked the Kleenex away again. "Anyhow," she said. "A neighbor's setting out some refreshments back at the house. Can you all come? I need to have people around me right now." "Well, certainly," Maggie told her, and Durwood said, "Wouldn't miss it, Serena," both at the same time. "Just let me get my car," Durwood said.
"Oh, never mind that; we're all walking. It's just over there through the trees, and anyway there's not a lot of parking space." She took Maggie's elbow, leaning slightly. "It did go well, didn't it?" she said. She steered her toward the road, while Durwood dropped behind with Sugar Tilgh-man. "I'm so glad I had the idea. Reverend Orbison threw a fit, but I said, 'Isn't this for me? Isn't a memorial service meant to comfort